


Ode to Sleep

by Sedated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hallucifer, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Illness, Samifer - Freeform, canon world, flirty hallucifer, haha - Freeform, it stresses sam out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedated/pseuds/Sedated
Summary: Sam realizes his hallucinations of Lucifer are real visions, Dean thinks his brother is insane, and Lucifer is freed from the cage a second time.





	1. Part One

  **Day 1**

" _Sammy_."

Sam sat upright in the motel room bed, breathing fast, eyes wide open.

His hallucination of Lucifer laid beside him with his head propped up casually on one hand. He was running his fingers along the duvet with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

_Shut up._  Sam flexed his jaw and resisted the urge to answer. Dean was asleep on the motel's couch, snoring obnoxiously.

"I'm not sure how you could have been," the blond said dryly as he glanced over at the eldest Winchester. "Besides, it's been a while since we talked."

It was a musty, small hotel room somewhere in Iowa. The streetlights outside were shining dimly in through the busted blinds.

Sam got to his feet and tried to brush past the hallucination when it reappeared in front of him—only to bump into the angel's solid shoulder, as if he were real.

Chills ran up his side from the touch and he moved quietly into the motel bathroom, shutting the heavy duty door behind him and turning on the light.

He turned on the faucet and splashed his face a couple times. He looked up into the mirror, and flinched at the sight of the devil standing behind him. He turned off the water.

"Leave me alone, I just need sleep," Sam said quietly into the room, just over the sound of the buzzing heater. He bowed his head and closed his eyes as his vision began to swim.

"I know you need sleep."

The devil's voice had changed, and Sam looked up at the reflection with tired green eyes. His forehead wrinkled. "Can't you just talk to me in the morning?" He was bargaining with his hallucination. The sleep deprivation was getting to him.

"You don't get it, do you Sam?"

Sam shook his head tiredly.

"You can call me a hallucination all you want. And maybe I'm in your head, sure," the devil said with a smile as he closed the distance between them and planted a hand on either of Sam's shoulders, startling him from where he slouched over the sink. "But it's still me, Sam. And when all of your organs fail, you'll come back to me. I've waited. I've been patient. I tried to talk you into going out the easy way, once," the arch angel rolled his eyes sideways and shrugged one shoulder slightly. "But you wanted to do it the hard way, so here we are." The hands squeezed Sam's shoulders.

Sam laughed brokenly and shook his head, eyes pinching closed again forcefully. "No, you aren't real. You aren't."

"Oh Sammy, keep saying it and maybe it'll come true." The hands slid off his shoulder and wrapped around his waist, a chin settling on to his shoulder. Sam's eyes opened wide involuntarily, his breath catching. He shook off the blond's hold and spun around to face him.

He was gone. Sam exhaled. He gasped for breath and slid down to the floor, his back against the bathroom cabinet.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, breath still coming out shaky and erratic as he fought a laugh and felt uncomfortable heat swell in his stomach. Guilty, confused, and so tired. He wrapped his arms around his legs. He pushed back memories that surfaced in waves, trying to keep them behind the crumbled wall in his mind.

Coffee couldn't fix this. Dean was going to notice.

He was  _falling._

_Down into the pit, a billion miles down, the air ripped from your chest and your eardrums rupturing, the sounds of the higher levels of hell; the screams of torture victims, the sound of wings beating._

_Total darkness._  He opened his eyes again, just to see the inside of the motel room bathroom. Light. Life. He breathed.

He couldn't go back there.

"I'm lonely."

The voice startled Sam sideways onto the cold tile flooring of the bathroom, and he stared wildly up at Lucifer who was looking down at him with a pouty, face-wrinkling expression.

"You know how it is down here, Sam. I miss you."

"I'm sorry," Sam said in a gasping voice. And then he shook his head. "I-"

"Sam?"

The abrasive, tired voice of his brother came in through the bottom of the door.

Sam blinked. His hallucination vanished. He messily pulled himself to his feet and opened the bathroom door to see his older brother, rubbing one eye with his knuckles with a grumpy expression.

"What are you doing in there? Are you okay?" Dean asked gruffly, glancing around his brother to peer into the bathroom suspiciously.

"Uh, yeah, just uh, taking a leak," Sam said hurriedly.

Dean blinked, a tired frown in place. "You always apologize to the toilet?"

Sam laughed nervously and sidestepped his brother to make his way toward his bed. A hand grabbed him by his forearm and he stopped short with a tired sigh.

"Dean—"

"He isn't real, Sam. Why are you saying sorry?"

Sam froze up, his shoulders tensing and lifting as he pulled his arm away from his brother's grasp. "I was talking to myself, all right? I'm tired. That's all."

"You mean you're not seeing Satan?"

Lucifer appeared on his bed, sprawled out with a smile. He patted the side closest to Sam welcomingly, eyebrows raised.

Sam sighed and turned to face Dean, his back to the hallucination. "Yeah. I am. But not all the time, and I'm dealing with it."

"Dealing with it by throwing yourself at the bathroom wall at three in the fricking morning? Yeah, my ass."

Sam's shoulders fell and his forehead wrinkled. "I'm just tired, Dean," he said in a defeated voice.

"Aww, poor thing," Lucifer cooed. "Come on Sam, let's snuggle." He patted the bed loudly.

Sam jumped. Dean reached out a hand to grab his shoulder gently. "Sam, I think we should find somebody—"

"Like who?" Sam asked snappishly.

"I don't know, like, like a doctor," Dean replied with a tired expression, and Sam felt guilty. "Or a psychic. Hell, anyone you want to see, Sam, let's just do something about this."

"Oh, I love shrinks. We should go Sam. It'd be fun. Free drugs!" Lucifer interjected and rolled on to his back, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on his chest.

"Yeah so they can stuff me full of pills? It won't do anything," Sam said bitterly.

"It might," Dean said hopefully. "Maybe knock you out, at least. Let you sleep."

Sam exhaled heavily and moved toward his bed, gritting his teeth and ignoring the way his hallucination made room for him with a smile and laid his head on the other pillow. He stopped and glanced back at his brother.

Dean crossed the room slowly and sat on his own bed, his eyes lidding slightly in exhaustion. "Sam? You with me?"

"They'd lock me up. We have to work on stopping Dick," Sam replied.

"Do you think he chose that vessel just for the comic relief of his name?" Lucifer wondered aloud. "I mean, it is pretty funny."

Sam refused to make eye contact with the blond hallucination and pulled back his blanket roughly to climb into the bed. He laid down with an indignant expression, and awkwardly turned away from the hallucination to face his brother. He tensed as he felt him— _it_ , because hallucinations don't have genders—tug at the back of his hair like a little kid.

"We don't have any leads on Dick Roman and I'm worried about you. You aren't much help with Satan on your shoulder."

Lucifer spooned Sam at the mention, his chin resting literally on the brunet's shoulder, his scruffy facial hair rough against his cheek. Sam breathed heavily and tried not to move.

_It wasn't real._

"Okay," Sam said finally, his voice quiet. "You're right. Okay."

Dean blinked, and fell on to his own bed with a surprised, still tired expression. "Really?" he asked incredulously.

Lucifer chuckled, the motion shaking against Sam's back in a way that made Sam's chest feel tight and warm. He clenched his hands into fists.

"Yeah. Let's see if they can knock me out. Find out what does it, clock me out, steal whatever drugs work and hit the road. Tomorrow morning."

Dean paused. "Okay, sounds like a plan." he said, and leaned over the nightstand to turn off the table lamp that had been lighting the room just slightly. "Night, Sammy." He still sounded disturbed by his brother's compliance.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to ignore the tremor of fear he felt at the sudden dark. He couldn't face the light coming in from the busted blinds, because he could still feel Lucifer lying next to him. A laugh filled the room, and a hand skated down his chest. He quietly grabbed it by the wrist, and exhaled shakily.

"Sam?" Dean's voice cut into the dark.

"Not in front of big brother?" Lucifer asked playfully, allowing his hand to be moved away. "Aw, you're no fun."

"Night Dean," Sam croaked, and rolled over on to his stomach to bury his face in the pillow. He could feel lips against his neck.

"Ah-ah, you can't sleep yet," Lucifer whispered against his skin. "Sam, we haven't even read bedtime stories."

Sam bit his tongue to resist the urge to respond, and flexed his hands in and out of fists under his pillow.

"Once upon a time there was a naughty vessel named Sammy—"

* * *

 

**Day 2**

Sam blinked heavy eyes at the ceiling as Lucifer hummed a cheery tune next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder in bed.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to let the noise lull him to sleep.

"Rise and shine with the beautiful morning star, Sammy," Lucifer cooed, tapping his nose and startling his eyes open again.

Sunlight was reaching in and birds were starting to sing. He hadn't slept at all.

_Dammit._

Dean's alarm went off, music blasting too loud for Sam to appreciate, and the dirty blond rolled around tiredly in bed for a moment before shutting it off, and stretching with an exaggerated yawn.

"Sam? You up already?" he asked through his yawn, his arms falling slack as he rolled his shoulders.

"Yep."

His brother paused and looked at him, his expression worried and intense. "Did you sleep at all?"

Lucifer smiled and blew at Sam's bangs that were falling in his face.

"No," Sam said hoarsely. He rubbed at the scar on his hand.

"Don't do that," his hallucination said scoldingly. "It's just offensive."

Dean watched the hand motion. "Is he here right now?"

Lucifer grinned and slid an arm around Sam, cuddling against him as he grimaced and resisted the urge to leap out of bed away from the hallucination. If he started trying to run away from a figment of his imagination, he really  _was_  crazy. Even though it felt like the devil was spooning him—he wasn't.

"Yep," he replied in a roughened voice, pinching his eyes closed for a second.

"Where?" Dean looked around, as if he could see, as he climbed out of his bed.

Lucifer started to nibble at Sam's jawline and with an alarmed exhale Sam threw himself out of bed and on to the carpeted floor in a dramatic motion, chest heaving like he'd run a mile.

Dean paused and stared down at his brother with a startled, disconcerted look.

"Let's get you those meds," he said as his little brother looked up at him with a terrified expression.

Lucifer laughed happily and rolled on to his back on the bed. "Sam you're so sensitive."

"Yeah," Sam croaked, pulling himself to his feet. "Let's go, I guess."

"Get dressed, you look like you just ate a frozen hot pocket."

Sam puzzled, and Dean raised both eyebrows.

"It's bad. You don't even want to know," his older brother elaborated with a shudder.

Sam laughed weakly and ignored the sound of footsteps that followed him into the bathroom. "I'll be ready in five," he said, his voice sounding better than he felt.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on to the floor. He refused to look in the mirror, but could see movement in his peripheral.

"Oh Sam, you're so forward," the archangel cooed dryly.

Sam breathed heavily and ground his teeth together as he stripped down to his boxers. He could shower in boxers. Whatever. He wasn't getting naked. He turned on the icy motel shower and waited, hoping the water would heat up.

"Come on Sam, I'm in your head remember? I'm not  _real_ —why so modest?"

He got in the shower after the water warmed slightly, and started to shave his face. The hallucination vanished. He exhaled shakily, and kept his boxers on just in case.

He started to wash his hair when he felt it again. He spun around, almost slipping on the wet shower floor, and lifted his tense shoulders at the sudden sight and proximity of his hallucination in the hot shower.

"Steamy in here, isn't it?" Lucifer asked with a playful wink, still fully clothed and not getting wet.

Because he  _wasn't_  real.  _He wasn't._

He drew a heart with his finger on the steamed shower's glass wall, writing 'L + S' in cursive in the center.

Sam groaned and rubbed the heart out with his hand. He started to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, head tilted back and eyes closed.

"Aw, that hurts my feelings."

"Sam hurry up, Frank said—"

"I'm coming!" Sam yelled, turning off the water and shaking his hair.

"Do you know how dark it is?"

Sam stopped with his hand on his towel and exhaled. He didn't look back. He didn't answer.

"There's  _nothing_. At least, through you, I can see. When you were here, Sam—"

Sam grabbed his hand and pushed into the scar until it hurt, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

"Oh stop it. You wanted me here. You invited me."

"I don't want you here. Go away," Sam said hoarsely, just quiet enough so Dean wouldn't hear, and pulled the towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist.

"That's not how permission works—no takes-backsies."

Sam sighed, an exhaustion headache beginning to pound at his temples as he stepped out of the shower and got dressed.

Lucifer vanished, and it felt uncomfortably quiet.

He told himself it wasn't uncomfortable.

* * *

 

"Okay Sammy? Been awfully quiet," Dean asked as he loosened his tense grip on the steering wheel and leaned back against his headrest. The quiet hum of the engine and the wheels turning against the road filled the silence.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Sam said. "Just tired."

"Could you sleep right now if you tried?"

"Nope," he laughed a little and resisted the urge to close his eyes and drift. It would only call the hallucination back.

"Well this guy's a friend—a friend of Bobby's. And Frank. He has all the good stuff, we'll get you some Xanax or something and you'll be right as rain."

Sam grimaced at the thought and sank into his seat. "Okay, where is this guy?"

"Just a few miles away actually," Dean said as he slowed down and pulled off an exit. "Hang in there."

Sam felt his eyes involuntarily slip closed from the lull of the car's motion. Images began to play behind closed lids.

"Sammy," a scolding voice jolted him awake and Dean glanced over at him in alarm. Sam exhaled, chest heaving as his breathing rate returned to normal.

"That's better. The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round..."

Sam groaned and smacked the back of his head against the headrest.

Dean shook his head and scowled at the road, pressing down on the gas pedal.

"You know these medications aren't going to work, right? I'm inside you," Lucifer said with a suggestive, lazy smile, from where he sat in the back seat with his legs kicked up on the middle console.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up._  Sam bit his tongue to keep the thoughts inside.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, see, I can do it too. It's not very nice, is it?"

Sam groaned and folded his torso forward, planting his face into his hands.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. He hated feeling useless when it came to his brother.

"There it is. Okay Sam, let's get you drugged up."

* * *

 

"Won't this many hurt me?" Sam asked unsurely as he swallowed another pill, heavy eyes turned up toward the hunter who was—somehow—still a practicing physician.

"Not sleeping  _will_  kill you, so let's take our chances," the brunet doctor replied brusquely, sitting down across from Sam with a contemplative expression behind his beard. "How do you feel?"

Lucifer sat on the counter behind the doctor with one ankle crossed over the other. "Yeah Sammy, how do you  _feel_?" he asked into a megaphone, pressing the button a few extra times for good measure. He smiled.

Sam laughed with a pained expression.

"Not good then. Okay. Worse?" the middle-aged hunter persisted. Dean had been kicked out to get Sam lunch, as per the doctor's orders.

"Uh, the same. He—the hallucinations—seem more uh, aggressive."

The doctor set his jaw and nodded. "Okay. You want to try an antipsychotic?"

"Psychotic? How rude," Lucifer drawled.

"Sure, just give me something," Sam said desperately, eyes hollow.

It was black.

The last thing Sam could remember was falling over, against the wall. The doctor shaking him, calling his name. His vision had fizzled out in spots.

He was on the ground, and it was entirely dark, despite his eyes being open. It was growing colder, numbing his legs. He got to his feet to try to keep his blood circulating. It was hard to balance in blindness. He was going to freeze to death. He couldn't  _breathe_ , it was so heavy on his chest, he was going to suffocate.

"Sam."

The doctor? No. It wasn't him.

"Sam."

He swayed, dizzy and with no sight to help him stabilize himself. He grasped at the open air around himself.

"Hey." A hand steadied him by the shoulder. Warmth spread from the touch and into his torso. He gasped for breath, suddenly feeling less like a fish out of water.

" _Look at me_."

Like that, he could see. Just barely.

Lucifer. A surprised look was on the angel's face as he held the hunter still.

"Well, this was unexpected, huh?" he asked curiously, head tilting on its side.

Sam shoved him off half-heartedly and choked out a laugh. There was nothing funny about the cage. Mind-numbing cold flooded him again, and it was still so dark. He turned around and walked away. He hit an invisible wall of darkness, and fell.

Falling, twisting, turning, the air ripped from his lungs again. There was no floor. He couldn't yell because there was no air. Hot flashes then chills. Pinpricks and electric shocks through his nerves. A warm body wrapped around him, and then slowly he touched the ground again, chest heaving, vision spinning.

"Calm down, Sam. We're still in your head," the angel said quietly against the hunter's earlobe. Sam froze up, his hands digging into the angel's forearm as he grasped for a sense of stability. "Breathe. You will die."

He breathed, the action painful. He was sitting on the floor. Lucifer was still wrapped around him, holding him still. He was tremoring. It wasn't as cold anymore.

"Maybe no more drugs to the party, hm?" the angel asked, exhaling into his hair.

Sam nodded vaguely, and laughed. "This is me, isn't it? It isn't you. This is all me."

"What do you think?" Lucifer asked unhelpfully, his invisible wings shielding them both from the frostbite-inducing cold.

"I don't know," Sam said hopelessly. He buried his head into the archangel's shoulder, eyes scrunching closed. He didn't care anymore, he just didn't want to be alone. He wasn't sure if he was remembering, hallucinating, or dreaming. Maybe all three.

The pit could swallow you and spit you out a million times. Tear you apart, freeze your pieces, then put you back together.

His pride wasn't worth being alone.

"I'm sorry," Sam said hoarsely. His memories were vague, the ones that slid past the wall. He remembered Michael, he remembered the crushing energy, and the cold. The darkness. He wasn't sure where Michael had gone. Disappeared one day, or gave up.

The torture had ended eventually. He was never really sure who was using his soul as a punching bag, just that one day it stopped altogether. It didn't help. It didn't matter anyway.

No one deserved to be alone in the pit. It  _burned_.

"Why is it so cold?" Sam asked finally when he felt his lips going numb. The angel shifted, and he felt warmer again. "So cold," he repeated, just to feel his mouth move. To remember he existed. It was easy to slip away down here. Down there. Was this real?

"Because that's how it was created," Lucifer answered, as if it was simple.

"Is this real?"

"Of course it's real."

Sam choked and staggered to his feet shakily. Lucifer stood with him, and he wandered forward a few hazy steps.

Endless darkness stretched before him. Nothing. At least there was solid ground beneath his feet.

"I miss you," Lucifer reiterated his sentiment from earlier. "I don't want to be down here."

"I know," Sam said, grinding his teeth together and closing his eyes. It was easy to forget to blink in the total darkness. "I don't want to go back."

"So come get me."

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like reality melted away. No breathing, no light, no movement. Nothing. The sensation of gravity left him.

"How?" he asked finally, and hoped the angel would answer. Real or not, he didn't want to be alone.

"You're smart. Figure it out." The voice drew closer, and lips pressed against his numb ear, warm. Sam sighed in shaking, reluctant relief. "I'll make you a deal."

"What deal?" he asked, turning to face the blond whom he could barely see. Or maybe he couldn't see him. Maybe it just felt like he could.

He felt a hand run into his hair, toying it between fingertips, and he tensed.

"You come get me out of here, and I leave you alone... let you sleep. And I get rid of that pesky Dick Roman. Deal?"

Sam froze. "Are you real?"

"Of course I'm real."

"And then you'll destroy the world, right?" Sam asked bitterly.

"Well." Lucifer's laugh warmed the space around them. "I didn't mention that, but you can handle whatever happens next. Right? It's that or you die, Sam. Get stuck down here with me. Forever." The hand in his air knotted and pulled him closer, tugging at the roots. "Good luck getting Death to save you again, sweetheart."

Sam scowled and stepped back. He felt his heels dip over a cliff and stepped forward to avoid another fall. He exhaled heavily. "You can stop the leviathans?"

"That is how deals work, Sammy. I can't offer what I can't deliver. Are you in?"

Sam looked up at the dark. Left and right, into the dark. Below, at the dark ground. The cold blazed around him like a fire. He could feel pressure beginning to crush his chest, and he stepped closer to where the angel had been.

Empty space.

Panic flooded him. "Lucifer?" he called out hoarsely.

There was a beat of silence and Sam shrunk to the ground, shaking violently as the cold set in.

"Lucifer," he repeated quietly, knowing the archangel could hear him. Wherever he was.

_Son of a bitch._

He got back to his feet and wandered forward aimlessly a couple steps, searching. " _Lucifer_. I—dammit, I'll do it. You have a deal," he said.

Suddenly he was warm, and a hand brushed the back of his neck, a thumb resting against his pulse. He swallowed shakily, green eyes widening.

"Yeah?"

The responding voice was hoarse, and just a little too human as the hand tugged him closer, emotions buzzing unbidden in Sam's chest in response.

"Yes," Sam said, wetting cracked lips. "I promise."

Lucifer hummed as he moved closer, a thumb tracing circles on his neck, soft puffs of warm breath accompanying the motion. "Then I'll see you soon."

Sam nodded shakily, the motion interrupted as lips pressed against his, softly at first, then more aggressively.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had began and Sam felt his heart trying to beat its way out of his rib cage. He wasn't even sure if it had been beating until then.

"You have to uh, seal it like that?" he asked, a little out of breath.

Lucifer smiled, and he wasn't sure if he saw it or sensed it, in the endless dark. "I'm not a demon, Sam."

Sam choked out a laugh, and then he saw the image of Lucifer waver.

He fell over, and he was unconscious.

* * *

**Day ?**

"Sammy?"

When Sam opened his eyes again he was in a hospital bed with an IV stuck in his arm. He tried to sit up but was gently pushed back down by his brother, who looked like he might cry, or had been crying.

"Dean?" He tested his voice, and it was weak and painful. He noticed one of his hands was handcuffed to the metal hospital bed, and looked up at his older brother, puzzled.

"Jesus, Sammy, don't ever do that to me again," Dean said through a tight throat. He squeezed his younger brother's unbound hand, which was heavily bandaged.

"What happened to me?" Sam asked, blinking aching eyes at the lights in the room, which seemed obnoxiously bright.

"You went into a coma. Hit your head, and starting digging into that scar on your hand. We kept stitching you up and you kept digging it back open. I thought I'd lost you Sam—I'm sorry. This is my fault."

Sam laughed weakly, and offered his brother a tired smile. "It's okay, Dean. I'm okay."


	2. Part Two

**Day 15**

Sam took the pills offered to him by the apologetic doctor with a grateful smile, which might have ended up looking more like a grimace.

"Listen Sam, I—I'm really sorry about what happened to you, but you can't come back here," the hunter said in a shaky voice as he turned away, moving one hand up to his beard anxiously. " _Ever_. I owed Bobby, and I consider that debt repaid now. I know how much you boys meant to him but I can't be mixed up in this."

"In what?" Sam asked. Dean had left a few hours prior, and it was the first time Sam was seeing the doctor since his nearly two-week coma. He looked tired.

"Demons, angels, Hell,  _Lucifer_ —you said some things when you were out. It's nothing personal, I won't be telling anyone, I just want to keep to my business and my books. So as soon as you're stable enough to move, you have to go," the man said with an air of rushed finality. "Well, I'll let you rest now."

"Doctor, I—"

The door shut behind him before Sam could start. He was alone. He sat back and listened to the beep of his heart monitor fluctuate. He closed his eyes and felt the cool IV releasing fluids into his veins.

_Don't scratch the wall._

Death's words rang in his mind, taunting him, and he felt pain rip into his chest, like claws, talons, flames, and knives.

He waited for the familiar appearance of his hallucinations to fill the silence, the lonely void, and nothing happened. He was used to his— _its_ —appearance when the feelings from the fall surfaced. He turned his eyes around the room, waiting, disbelieving. There was no way his comatose dream had been real. That much he knew.

He waited longer, and as the hours of night stretched on in the cool clinic room, he told himself he didn't feel lonely, because that didn't make sense.

He still couldn't sleep.

* * *

 

**Day 17**

Cool November wind rushed toward Sam's face from where he sat outside a lakeside coffee shop, a warm mocha grasped between his hands. It was grey and stormy over the large body of water.

" _No_. Scratch that— _hell_  no. What's wrong with you?"

Sam sighed and looked away from his infuriated brother. He'd known this would happen, but he'd tried anyway, because he wasn't sure what else to do.

"Your hallucinations are gone. That's all it was Sam, a hallucination. And even if it wasn't, it was stupid." Sam flinched. "Why the hell would you make a deal with the devil?"

Sam flexed his jaw and the skin near his temples tightened. "Dean, you don't get it."

"I been to hell, Sam. You're the one who doesn't get it. Maybe those hallucinations messed you up, because you aren't thinking straight."

Sam stood up and pushed his chair back under the table shortly, coffee in hand.

"Or maybe, maybe it's because there's a part you left out, Sam? I think maybe our experiences were different," Dean finished scathingly, eyes heated.

Sam's hands started to shake. He dropped his coffee on the table. "I had amnesia, Dean. My memories were blocked from me. And are you drunk?"

Dean pursed his lips and shrugged. "We're not freeing your  _boyfriend_  from his cage. He's _the devil_ , Sam."

"Yeah? Fine. I'll do it myself."

"Not even going to deny it for me?" Dean yelled as Sam walked away. "Come on Sam, say  _something_."

Sam hunched his shoulders and kept walking, heading toward the lake shoreline.

He heard footsteps after him. " _Hey_. Where are you going?"

"I don't need your help Dean. If you don't want to stop the leviathans you don't have to help me."

Dean spluttered as he tried to keep up with Sam's angry long strides. "Are you kidding me? You just want to spring Satan from hell because he messed with your head. We don't need him."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sam asked shortly as he stopped and turned to face Dean. "And if it wasn't real, explain why all of my hallucinations stopped."

Dean shrugged. "The drugs? Hell if I know. Maybe you just needed to have a breakdown. I don't care why they're gone, I'm just glad they are. And with Dick running around, the last thing we need is to let loose the guy we just put in prison."

There was a beat of silence between the brothers and Sam looked away, opening, then closing his mouth, and shrugging one shoulder. "I'm tired Dean," he said finally.

"I know," Dean said quietly, and moved closer to his brother, his expression growing softer. "You can't give up yet Sam. This world still needs us."

Sam shook his head and looked at the ground.

"Hey," his brother's voice took on a gentler tone. Sam felt a hand clap on to his shoulder. "Come on. I've got a case for us."

* * *

 

**Day 20**

Sam tried to sleep, tried to work, tried to  _forget_. For Dean, and for himself.

The nights were the worst; with frequent wakenings, dreams of soft touches, soul-crushing cold and darkness, and the warm skin that kept him from losing himself in the void in the pit. He was never sure if they were good dreams or nightmares. He could feel the damage his soul had suffered, feel the soul like it was a body part, one he had never noticed before. He felt empty.

So he gave up on trying to be normal. He wasn't sure what he wanted, or maybe he was, but he wasn't willing to admit what it was, even as he stared into the red eyes of the demon he had summoned.

"I need to open the cage," Sam heard the words before he realized he had said them.

"It can't be done," the King of Hell said with an air of finality. "And even if it could be, I wouldn't do it. You're  _insane_ , Moose. Literally, I hear."

Sam gritted his teeth and felt a surge of rage as he glared at the summoned demon, who sat casually on the chair inside his demon trap. "Shut up, Crowley."

It was dark in the old, broken down warehouse. It was four in the morning in an old farm town in Iowa, and Dean was fast asleep miles away in a motel. Sam's arm was still dripping blood on to the cold floor from where he had cut it for the powerful summoning spell, and laid out in front of Crowley was a bowl of reagents. The room was only illuminated by some candles necessary for the spell.

"What would big brother Dean think of this if he knew, hm? I could tell him, you know. This trap won't hold me forever."

Sam threw his knife haphazardly at Crowley with an angry roar and found himself glaring at the cement floor of the dilapidated room with exhaustion burnt eyes. "You're going to help me. I  _know_  it can be opened," Sam said with a shaking voice.

Crowley looked down at the knife stuck into his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I'm not, because I'm more afraid of  _him_  than I am of  _you,_ Moose. You know, I'm amazed you even still have a soul," Crowley said in a puzzled voice. "How did you ever manage to retrieve that? I can't imagine Lucifer let that go...  _easily_."

Sam started to laugh, and he wasn't sure where the feeling came from, all he knew was he couldn't hold it back. Maybe it was a little deranged, maybe he wasn't feeling quite himself. He felt like he was floating, watching himself start to shake as he drew Ruby's knife out of his jacket and approached Crowley, pressing the blade to his throat.

"Hey, hey, come on Moose, you still with us?" Crowley's voice had changed, all amusement gone as he leaned away from the glowing tip of the blade, which had drawn blood that was trickling down his neck. "You don't want to do this."

Sam couldn't see anymore, only feel. He could feel his hand on the blade, and he could feel his own heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He could sense the demon blood running down Crowley's neck and it was that which made him step back, dropping the blade and kicking it away from himself, gasping for breath. "Help me, please," he said, and he wasn't sure who he was speaking to.

"You really are crazy, aren't you?" Crowley asked. He was free of his demon trap that had still been wet when Sam stepped into it, destroying the seal. He wiped the blood off of himself with a white rag, the skin already healed and knitted closed again. He pulled the knife out of his shoulder and dropped it on the ground, the metal-on-concrete clang reverberating off the walls.

Sam slowly sat down on the ground, knees bent in front of him as he stared down at his hands which kept shaking, and  _shaking_.

"The only way to open the cage is by breaking the seals, or using the horsemen's rings. I can't do either."

Sam shook his head frantically, and ran both hands into his dark brown hair, grabbing at the roots.

"But you can."

Sam's head shot up, green, bloodshot eyes wide as they locked with the demon's. Crowley looked uncomfortable with whatever he saw looking back at him, and sighed, looking down at his hand as he flexed his fingers. "Well, it was terrible to see you Sam. Let's  _not_  do this again. Goodbye."

Sam looked down at his phone, and blinked. He picked it up and called Dean's dead cellphone so he could leave a voicemail.

"Dean, I'm going on a job," Sam tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he lied. "Alone. I need to do this, for myself, just to get used to working again. I won't be long. I'll meet you back in Sioux Falls in a week. I'm sorry."

The phone clicked shut.

* * *

 

**Day 22**

Sam brushed the dirt off of the ring he had dug out of a grave somewhere out in the middle of nowhere in Connecticut. He turned War's ring around in his fingers, and felt a sudden rush of uncertainty fill his chest. He sat down next to the shovel he had used to dig up the grave, sweat dripping off his brow as he sat the ring down next to himself, muscles shaking with exhaustion.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself, because Dean and Lucifer weren't around, and he wasn't sure he knew how to be alone anymore. He laughed a little tiredly at his own madness.

If the real Lucifer could see what he had reduced Sam to, he would laugh. He  _was_  insane. His mind had gone the way of his soul, torn, shattered, ripped apart, blackened on the edges. He was ruined.

"Hey Sam."

Sam nearly fell into the hole he had dug as he jumped at the voice, his breath catching in his throat. He grabbed the ring he had retrieved and closed it into fist as his head swiveled around to locate the voice, eyes wide.

There stood Lucifer. His blond hair was mussed, his grey shirt wrinkled. His blue eyes seemed inhumanly bright as he looked down at the brunet, his head tilted to one side, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Miss me?" the blond asked as he moved closer, sitting down next to the hyperventilating brunet, and swinging his legs over the grave like a child. He looked down at the decaying corpse inside and raised both eyebrows with a frown. Then he looked back to Sam, smiling.

"Don't you get hungry? When did you last eat?" he asked, leaning back and planting his weight on his hands in the dirt.

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes, opening them again just to find the angel leaning close, the corners of his eyes pinched in a smile.

" _Boo_ ," he whispered, close enough for Sam to feel breath on his skin.

Sam scrambled backwards with the ring still clutched in his fist. He got up, leaving the shovel and desecrated grave as he started to walk. Away. Anywhere that wasn't there. That's where he was going.

"Oh come on, I swear you're basically  _praying_  for me, and now here I am, and you won't even look at me. I'm  _lonely_."

Sam kept walking, hands shaking as he got his keys from the pocket and turned on the car he had stolen, jumping in the front seat. Lucifer appeared in the passenger seat with a dramatic sigh, and kicked his feet up on the dashboard of the 2000 Ford.

He started driving.

* * *

 

"Look Sam, another large body of water. Why don't you drive into that one? Then I'd shut up." The hallucination laughed meanly.

Sam kept his hands closed on the steering wheel and kept driving ahead, something about the wheels over the road keeping him sane, only just enough. He knew his whereabouts, and for some reason, he was still on his way to the location of the next ring. He didn't know why.

"Because you're desperate. But what are you desperate for Sam?"

Sam shook his head, because he  _didn't know_ , and he wasn't sure it mattered. He felt lost, and at least collecting the rings, he could see Lucifer, the  _real_  Lucifer, and maybe he could know if this had been real all along.

A hand fell on top of his knee and Sam jumped, his foot slamming on to the pedal, accelerating the old Ford accidentally. He looked over with wide eyes to the hallucination, who wagged his eyebrows with a playful smile.

"I'm cold, Sam," Lucifer said, his tone darkening.

"I'm—sorry," Sam said. The hand on his knee  _was_  cold, and the feeling ran into his leg like creeping ice through his veins.

His phone started to ring, and Sam fumbled for it, shuddering as his arm brushed the distinctly solid arm of the hallucination's. It scared him how real he was. Without thinking, he answered the call, and held it up to his ear, looking in between the road and Lucifer's smirk as he did. "Hello?" he croaked.

" _Sammy_ ," Dean's voice cracked through the cellphone, panicked. " _Where are you?_ "

"On a job," Sam replied distractedly as Lucifer's hand slid further up his leg, no longer as cold.

" _Then I'm going_   _with you. Where are you?_ "

"Dean, I'm—ah," Sam gasped a little as the fingers on his thigh dug in with more force suddenly. He looked over at the hallucination, whose blue eyes were dark and angry. "I'm  _fine_ by myself," he forced out into the phone line.

" _Bullshit. What_ job _are you on?_ "

"I—I've got to go Dean," Sam said into the phone, a little out of breath. He could hear his brother protesting into the line as he hung up and put the cellphone on silent, tossing it back on to the middle tray of the car. He used his spare hand to pull the hand off of his leg, breathing like he'd run a marathon and ignoring his body's response to the touch.

Briefly, the hallucination kept a hold of his hand, fingers curling around his own and a thumb tracing circles over his knuckles.

"I miss you," Lucifer said in a moping voice as he settled for looking out the car window. "It's boring down here."

Sam swallowed and pushed the jumbled feelings in his chest to the pit of his stomach with some effort. The Leviathans were growing more dangerous by the day, and the best Dean had come up with was household cleaners. It wasn't going to be enough. How they had managed to stop the apocalypse and trap two archangels was starting to seem more and more like luck.

They needed Lucifer, that much he knew.

* * *

 

**Day 23**

It was morning by the time Sam arrived at the location of the next ring, a graveyard in Maine. He pulled his car off on the side of the road, and the hallucination of Lucifer startled from its fake nap—as if he slept at all.

Sam set his left hand on the car door as he pulled the keys out of the ignition with his other.

"I wouldn't go just yet," Lucifer said dryly. Ignoring him, Sam opened the door and shut it behind him, blinking tired eyes against the abrasive morning sun. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around, ignoring the sudden appearance of the archangel behind him.

"I thought you promised to leave me alone," Sam said under his breath as he walked, the hallucination walking beside him and humming.

"I promised to let you sleep, which I have done. I didn't promise I wouldn't come back. Besides, you need me," the blond said dismissively as he watched a squirrel run across their path and up a tree in the graveyard. "This is a bad idea. We should go back to the car."

"I have to do this," Sam said stubbornly. "There's no other way to get you out."

"Out of the cage, or out of your head?" Lucifer asked playfully, swinging an arm around Sam's shoulders as they walked.

Sam sighed as they came to stop at the small, pale blue mausoleum. It was day time, but he didn't think anyone would notice. The town was deserted, and the graveyard was no exception. Besides, it was a private mausoleum, and they were never locked to family.

"Admit it, you kind of like it," was whispered in Sam's ear. " _Me_. Inside you." The angel laughed at his own joke after Sam shook him off with an angry look.

The brunet pulled the copy of the key he had made out of his pocket and pushed it into the slot with more force that necessary, not noticing that the door was already unlocked before he opened it, and it was too late.

Handcuffs clinked around one wrist and before Sam could react, both arms were pulled behind his back and he was cuffed. He started to yell a protest when a hand covered his mouth, and Dean's disappointed face became illuminated by the light from outside the mausoleum.

"I said we should have stayed in the car," Lucifer said boredly as Bobby and Dean pulled him back outside the mausoleum and shut the door. Dean took his hand away from his brother's mouth reached into Sam's jacket pocket, retrieving War's ring. Sam's eyes twitched between his brother and the hallucination of Lucifer, who was looking at Dean with one arched eyebrow.

"Sam,  _why_?" Dean asked sadly as he looked at the ring, his brows furrowed in a look of pain. The older Winchester closed the ring in his fist and put it away in his pocket, and looked into his brother's glazed over eyes. "Sam?"

"He's all we've got Dean," Sam said hoarsely. "If we don't stop the leviathans, everyone's going to die."

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, expression taut with sadness. "You wouldn't have done this before the wall broke, Sam. This is my fault. And that's why I'm going to get you better."

Lucifer shifted closer to Dean with a curious look in his eyes, and raised his hands toward his neck, winking and smiling at Sam as he started to wrap his hands around Dean's throat.

Sam reacted without thinking, surging away from Bobby and knocking Dean on to the ground.

Lucifer disappeared.

Dean looked up at him with a bemused, alarmed expression before he got up, shaking his head.

"What do you want to do with him?" Bobby asked, sounding tired as he pulled the younger Winchester back to his feet. He held him by the elbow, and Sam looked over at Bobby with desperate eyes, like a cornered wild animal.

"We'll put him in the panic room until, shit, I don't know, until we have this figured out," Dean said, and helped Bobby pull his younger brother toward the treeline the Impala was parked behind. "We can't have him running off and getting hurt or killed, or freeing Lucifer."

"Listen to me Dean, I'm not crazy," Sam argued, and he could hear in his own voice how unbelievable he sounded, so he stopped.

"You sure about that?" Lucifer asked as Sam was pushed gently into the back of the Impala, the door shutting behind him. The blond hallucination sighed and scooted over to the middle seat next to Sam, resting his head on his shoulder and closing blue eyes with a smile.

Sam tensed and stared straight ahead, resisting the urge to move as Bobby looked back at them— _him_ , because Sam reminded himself he was  _alone_ —suspiciously. He could feel each puff of imagined breath against his cheek.

"You all right Sam?" Dean asked.

"He's going to be okay Dean," Bobby said as the Impala grumbled to life.

Sam inhaled sharply as Lucifer pressed his lips to his neck and sighed. "You smell good, Sam."

Bobby gave Sam a concerned look, as the hallucinating hunter pressed himself up against the car door and flexed his fingers, looking out the window with sleep-deprived eyes and a stressed expression.

Lucifer ran his fingers back and forth over the handcuffs, chuckling against his neck as he trailed his index finger up from Sam's wrist and back down again. "I could get you out of these, you know," he husked.

Sam bit his tongue so he wouldn't respond.

"Just say the word, and I will," he murmured.

Sam exhaled shakily and tried to close his eyes, but it didn't get rid of the feeling of a warm body pressed up against him, fingertips skating on his skin, and lips grazing his jawline.

"Mm, I guess you like them.  _Kinky_." He laughed a little.

Sam closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. Part Three

**Day 24**

"Dean, let me out," Sam yelled through the door of the panic room as he laid his back against it, staring at the bright ceiling light with aching eyes. He was starting to get cold in the fully-metal room, and Lucifer had disappeared. He didn't like being alone anymore. Not since the wall had broken.

"Sorry Sammy, this is for your own safety," Dean said, not sounding sorry at all.

"I'm not hallucinating anymore, Dean, please. I'm fine. Just let me out," Sam said, and it was, unfortunately, the truth. Lucifer only seemed to appear when it was inconvenient for Sam and liked to leave him alone when he felt isolated. He'd climbed all over him for a thirty-hour car ride with Dean and Bobby, and vanished the second he got thrown in the panic room.

"You're not just hallucinating anymore, Sam, you're full-blown delusional. You're not coming out of there until Bobby and I come up with a way to fix you. Sit tight."

Sam thudded his head against the door and swore, regretting the action immediately. He tried to reach up a hand to rub his aching head but he was still cuffed. He sighed dramatically. "Are the cuffs really necessary in here?"

He heard someone descend the steps and stop next to the door. "You go, Son, I got it from here."

"You sure Bobby?"

"Yeah. Get some fresh air."

"Thanks."

Sam puffed up his cheeks and exhaled. "Bobby?" he called out at the door.

There was a beat of silence. "Sam?"

"Can you uncuff me?" Sam felt his heart start to beat faster. It wasn't nice to take advantage of Bobby. It wasn't right, but he was starting to think and feel like a caged animal, and he couldn't _stand_ it; he needed out. Bobby would understand.

There was another pause.

"No."

Sam felt his heart sink and he got up and walked away from the door, his arms aching. He pulled them uselessly against the cuffs and pinched his eyes closed in pain as he sat down on the mattress they had left in there for him. He couldn't use the blanket so he kicked it out of the way and laid down.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but I wasn't born yesterday. If I opened this door you'd be gone, you and I both know it."

Sam didn't answer and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. A small part of him wished Lucifer would come back. He pushed that small part of himself away. Somewhere in his head where he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it.

"You rang?"

Sam sat up on his knees on the mattress, green eyes wide. Lucifer had his back against one of the metal walls of the panic room. He looked around, a curious smile in place as he surveyed the area.

"Wow, look at this place, huh? Panic room. Pretty nifty."

Sam didn't respond, so the hallucination strode over to him and threw himself unceremoniously onto the bed next to him. The blond crossed his ankles and folded his arms back underneath his head, sighing as he tried to get comfortable.

Sam laid back down, turned his head, and glared at him.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Lucifer asked sarcastically, rolling himself onto his side and propping his head up with one hand.

Sam scowled and Lucifer hummed as he sat up and reached over the brunet, ice cold hands falling onto cuffed wrists, which were starting to bleed from Sam's constant nagging and pulling. Sam stiffened, unable to push the man off due to his cuffs. The hallucination pulled his hand back and tilted his head, looking at the drop of blood on this thumb with dilated pupils.

Sam flinched and maneuvered himself into a sitting position facing away from the archangel, his heart clenching uncomfortably. _It isn't real,_ he told himself, but this time he couldn't make himself believe it. He stared at the wall, and then down at his shoes.

He felt a tug at the chain between his cuffs, and he sucked in a shaking breath, eyes pinching closed. The cuffs tightened. He was sure he imagined that. His legs felt too numb to stand on, and he knew he was panicking.

"Do you want these off?" Lucifer's voice was uncomfortably close as he played with the chain link with his index finger.

Sam started to shake, and then _the lights went off_.

All at once, it was dark and cold, so cold, the metal floors and walls unforgiving. Lucifer's hands were cold, colder than they should have been. Then they were gone, and he couldn't see anything, because it was so dark. The metal handcuffs felt like they were spreading numbness into his limbs.

Sam started to hyperventilate and pulled frantically against the cuffs, not caring about the way it made his skin sting and protest.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice barely registered as it rang from under the door. Sam shook his head and started to tremor. It wasn't real. Dean's voice, he had heard it so often down there, but it was never real; just a trick to lure him off another edge where he fell, and fell, and _fell_ , deeper into the cold darkness. He closed his eyes, because it seemed less dark that way, millions of colors and lights flashing behind his tightly closed lids.

"Hey," Lucifer's voice crooned, and in that instant, Sam couldn't bear to understand that it was a hallucination, he just curled up against the welcoming warm body, finding safety in the feeling. "It's all right," an arm wrapped around him, holding him closer, blocking out the darkness. It never seemed to end. Sam waited. For hours, days, months, and years, the darkness had stretched on. It was an eternity. It was nothing. It was _cold_. There was no gravity, only falling, and dark.

Suddenly the arm around him vanished and a hand on his shoulder was shaking him, and he could see light behind closed lids. He opened his eyes.

And there was Dean, holding a lantern, with Sam's cuffs held in his other hand. Sam moved his aching hands slowly from behind his back, realizing only then that he was free, and looked up into his older brother's face as if he didn't recognize him.

"Hey, it's okay, all right?" Dean said seriously, eyes scared. Sam understood then. He was scared.

Dean dropped the cuffs, which had blood stained around the rims, and held both of his little brother's shoulders, looking into his eyes intently. "Stay with me Sam. You're here. You're at Bobby's. I want you to look at me. We're home."

Sam pressed his hands together and looked down at them, his wrists bruised, chafed, and bloodied. They stung. He flexed numb and tingling fingers, pressing the fingertips together and blinking as he looked at them.

Dean grabbed one of his hands carefully, inspecting it by the light of the lantern. " _Shit_ , Sam," he muttered.

Sam breathed a laugh and turned green eyes up toward his brother's. "Dean."

"Yeah?"

Sam didn't say anything else, just sucked in a deep breath and fell forward, head-first into his brother's shoulder.

Dean patted him on the back, and then Sam fell unconscious.

Within a few seconds, he came back around, but with a feeling of exhaustion crushing him that hadn't been there before. "Dean, I'm gonna sleep," Sam said hoarsely, rolling onto the pillow on the bed and using his freed hands to pull the blanket off the ground and toward himself.

"Okay Sam," Dean said, and didn't move from his seat at the edge of the bed with the lantern.

Sam was too tired to care, and before he could tell him to go away, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

**Day 26**

"Rise and shine, Buttercup."

Sam's eyes opened slowly, still tired after the first night of decent sleep he had gotten in a week. Lucifer hovered over him in the bed, blowing cool air over his face playfully. Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked up at the hallucination, repressing a smile at the light behind his head that made him look a little bit like he had a halo.

"Morning," Sam said without thinking, and sat up. Lucifer obliged by moving out of the way with a happy smile. Sam felt guilty, but he didn't know why, and it was too early to be full of self-loathing. At least, he assumed it was early. He could hear Bobby and Dean listening to the news upstairs.

At the bottom of the bed was a new pair of clothes for Sam, which he definitely needed. He huffed out a reluctant sigh and got up, cringing as his swollen, black and purple wrists protested with every movement of his hands.

He peeled off his t-shirt quickly, reaching for the replacement on the bed without acknowledging Lucifer, who had trailed after him with a curious look on his face.

He pulled the new, clean black shirt over his head, ignoring the sudden proximity of the hallucination. He flexed his jaw and gritted his teeth as he changed out of his jeans, his fingers still numb as he fumbled with the button.

Lucifer's cold hands suddenly grabbed one of his own with startling force, pulling it up and inspecting the cuff wounds carefully. He frowned, like he was very frustrated about something, and looked at Sam with an expression that was somewhere between angry and sad.

"What?" Sam asked, pulling his hand back to himself in a jerky motion, his chest moving a little more rapidly as he breathed.

"I hate being like this," Lucifer said, his tone lacking its usual lightness. "How do humans stand it?"

"Stand what?" Sam asked, looking at his wrists and trying to see what the archangel was so upset about.

"Being useless," he clarified.

Sam huffed a laugh as he looked back up. "Patience," he said simply, and stepped out of his jeans.

Lucifer watched him appreciatively, eyes scanning up and down his figure, and Sam put on his clean grey sweatpants in a hurry, ignoring the protests of his wrists.

"Do I make you nervous, Sam?" Lucifer asked. He smiled a little.

Sam breathed a laugh. "No," he said hurriedly. He paused. "I mean, yes," he corrected himself as the devil moved closer.

"Sam?" Dean's voice cut into the conversation as the metal door was pushed open by his older brother, who had raised eyebrows. "Oh, good. Come on upstairs and eat something."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked a little too excitedly, eyes darting to the open door anxiously. He started walking toward the door before Dean could change his mind, ignoring Lucifer at his heels, and jogged up the steps.

Dean came up behind him, and Sam tried not to make a face as Lucifer stopped next to his older brother, the image resonating weirdly with Sam. He shook himself and sat down at Bobby's kitchen table. His skin was still pale, and the skin beneath his eyes dark and purple.

"Welcome back to the living Sam. You were out for almost two days," Bobby said as he offered him a beer and a cup of coffee.

Sam reached for the beer but Dean beat him to it, picking it up and taking a swig. "So you're staying here with me, and Bobby's going out today," he explained as Sam scowled at him, and his old brother took a swig.

"Two days?" Sam asked sharply as he got up and reached for the fridge, which was chained shut. He sighed and sat back down. He glared at the cup of coffee in front of him, not wanting it, and Bobby slid a plate of eggs toward him. "Don't you guys think this is a little ridiculous? I'm fine," Sam said and looked up between the three. "I don't need a babysitter."

Lucifer nodded agreeably. "Totally uncalled for," he said sarcastically. Sam realized he was staring at thin air and looked away.

Bobby and Dean exchanged a look. "Eat something, Sam," Bobby said tiredly. "You'll feel better if you do."

Dean walked straight through Lucifer, the act making Sam feel sick because it messed with his head, and sat down at the table diagonal from his younger brother. "Sam, are you seeing him right now?"

Lucifer raised two blond eyebrows and winked.

"No," Sam said too quickly.

There was a pause, and Dean exhaled. "Okay."

"I'll see you boys later," Bobby said as he pulled on his baseball cap and put something into his pocket. Sam tensed his hand around his fork. It was undoubtedly the rings. "Call if you need anything Dean."

"See ya' Bobby," Dean grunted through a mouthful of food. The older hunter clapped Sam on the shoulder affectionately before he walked out the door, which he locked behind himself five ways. "Just like old times, huh, Sammy?" Dean asked dryly, and nodded to his younger brother's untouched plate.

"You mean when Dad would leave us to go on hunts and you lied to me about them? Yeah, it is a lot like that," Sam replied morosely.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through short, dark blond hair. "Sam."

"I'm not hungry," Sam said, and pushed the plate away from himself.

Dean tensed at that. "You haven't eaten in days, Sam," he said in a low voice.

"I don't know what to tell you, I'm just not hungry," Sam replied. Lucifer smiled maliciously as he sat down in the other seat next to Sam.

"How many days has it been? Four? That's not that many. Gandhi went three weeks," Lucifer said, taking a drink of Sam's coffee and setting it back down. "Isn't he your idol or something?"

Sam stared at the cup, and then back at Dean. Dean seemed irritated as he chewed his scrambled eggs, and not at all like he had just seen a coffee cup float in the air, so Sam didn't say anything. Then the younger Winchester shuddered, remembering the time Gandhi tried to strangle him.

Dean picked up the TV remote from the table and turned off the news, standing up and pushing his chair under the table with more force than necessary. "What about the hand scar?"

Sam shook his head. Dean narrowed his eyes and walked over, grabbing his brother's healing hand and jamming his thumb into the scarring tissue. Sam hissed in pain and Lucifer rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up on the table. "Dean, stop," Sam said, pulling his throbbing hand back and grimacing. "It doesn't work anymore."

"So he is here right now?" Dean asked accusingly. Sam stared at the wooden table, feeling like he was floating away. He shot a glance over to where Lucifer had been sitting, only to find the chair empty.

"No, he lef—he's gone."

Dean exhaled. "That's good."

Sam forced himself to look up at his brother with a smile and nod. "Yeah." He felt hollow, but he told himself it wasn't because Lucifer was gone. That didn't make sense. Nothing made sense lately.

Dean smiled back weakly. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Okay, let's have a good time," Dean said with some effort. "What do you want to do?"

* * *

That evening, Sam laid back against the couch with half-lidded eyes, nursing his fifth or sixth beer. An old episode of Speedy Gonzales played on the small television set, and Dean laughed a little drunkenly from where he sat with a bottle of whiskey. There were shot glasses lined up on the table in the kitchen, which had been forgotten a couple of hours ago.

A pack of gummy worms, some marshmallows, and an empty pizza box were strewn across the floor. An empty pie container was on Dean's armrest.

"Hmm, I love Looney Tunes," Dean mumbled, words slurring together slightly. "This was a good idea, Sammy."

"The human fascination with alcohol is amusing to me," Lucifer's voice was sudden and startling. Sam choked a little on his drink. He swiveled his head around to look at the blond, who he had never heard sound quite so much like an _angel_. "Pay attention to _me_ now, Sam." The angelic innocence in his voice went as suddenly as it appeared.

"All right Sammy?" Dean asked, blinking green eyes at his brother as he coughed, his eyes following the angel as he came around to the front of the couch.

"Yeah, just inhaled a little," Sam said between coughs, eyes widening as Lucifer sat down and sidled up next to him on the couch. His blue eyes looked intense with what seemed to be some kind of anger as he swung an arm around Sam's shoulders, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Sam's neck. The brunet gasped, green eyes widening as teeth sank into his skin, just hard enough to sting.

Sam curled his hand into a fist and bit down on it, looking away from his brother with a reddening face, and tried not to move as Dean gave him an increasingly suspicious look. He felt his pulse skyrocket, and tried to keep his breathing level without much success as the devil nipped the skin below his jaw, chuckling.

"What'sa matter Sam? Just _say_ something if you don't like it," Lucifer said coyly, and raked his teeth down the brunet's neck, sucking on the spot he had bitten.

"H—ey, Dean, I'm going to go to—to bed," Sam said, breath catching and eyes half-lidding as his body started to react unfavorably to the hallucination. "I feel— _uhn_ —sick."

"C'mon Sam, the show's'almost over," Dean protested grumpily, popping a marshmallow into his mouth and taking a swig of whiskey. "What got into you?"

Sam made a low, roughened breathing noise in response, jumping as Lucifer's hand fell into his lap. The devil smiled, palming him through his jeans. "A- _ah_ —stop, _stop_ ," Sam said, and stood up suddenly, his breath coming sharp and erratic as he looked down at the unapologetic archangel.

Dean looked around, puzzled for a second before a light seemed to go on somewhere behind his eyes, and he straightened up. " _Oh_."

"Bummer," Lucifer replied, sprawling out on the side of the couch Sam had been occupying. "Why so shy, _bunk buddy_?"

Sam blinked several times and forced himself to look over at Dean, who had a decidedly disturbed expression in place.

"Sam—uh, is he—"

"Dean," Sam said tersely, rubbing a hand over his face. "Do I have to sleep in the panic room again?"

"You're no fun," Lucifer said boredly, and when Sam blinked he had disappeared. He breathed.

Dean stood up, standing on a piece of forgotten pizza as he did. He lifted his shoe to look at the cheese on the bottom and fell over drunkenly, huffing a frustrated exhale. "Uh, yeah, gimme a sec'," Dean muttered. "Shit, Sam, you can just sleep wherever you want," he said, slumping. He was too drunk to keep tabs on his little brother anymore.

He stumbled over to the couch again and laid down, his head spinning. "Just give me a second," he said. Before he could gather himself, he was asleep.

Sam looked between his brother and the front door only a few times before he grabbed his jacket and headed out. Just for a walk, before the hallucination came back.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment please!


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